


Admirable

by msdaphne



Series: Without A Cause [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: D/s, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12570868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdaphne/pseuds/msdaphne
Summary: Poe is 19, in second year at the Academy. A viral porn holo is the icebreaker for a conversation with a fellow cadet, in what will become his first real D/s relationship.





	Admirable

**Author's Note:**

> (This series refers to Marlen occasionally, and the Varrick Holo comes up in [Chapter 13](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10774128/chapters/28624692) of [Scum](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10774128).)

* * *

 

Poe's first reaction to the rumour was pretty much like everyone else's: Someone had leaked a sex holo? With Colonel Varrick in it? Okay, but Varrick was like, sixty. And while he was in great shape and probably pretty attractive to anyone over fifty, nineteen-year old Poe wasn't particularly interested in watching it.

But then the details started to circulate. It wasn't just any sex holo. It was some kind of weird hardcore kinky shit. Poe pretended he still wasn't interested. And when people started making jokes about it, he tried to shut his ears off. The thought of a man he admired, and took commands from, being exposed like this- all he could do was try to keep his head down.

Eventually, people started to pronounce that it probably _wasn't_ actually Varrick, just someone that kind of looked like him. Eventually, the consensus was that it definitely wasn't him. But everyone still called it the Varrick Holo.

When his roommate pointed out that Poe was probably the last cadet not to have watched it, he laughed and apologized for being so busy and said _go ahead, lemme see what all the fuss is about_.

It definitely wasn't the Colonel.

... 

 

At evening mess he was seated with four of his classmates and three seniors, including Marlen Toller, the very last person in the galaxy he wanted to talk about hardcore porn in front of.

Marlen was objectively fucking hot, but yet seemed oddly... not sexless, exactly, but...  _better_. He'd dated a girl for two years and a guy his junior year, and they both described him as a perfect gentleman, with an unspoken note of disappointment. He came across as utterly straight in every sense of the word. Clean-cut, athletic, punctual, committed, a natural-born leader. He was going to be an admiral someday, everyone was sure.

So when his classmates started joking about the holo, Poe didn't particularly want to join in anyway. And when their jokes turned ugly, his skin tingled with something he refused to acknowledge as shame. But it sure felt a lot like it.

When someone called the guy in the holo a _b----_ , he spat out, "Watch your fucking language, please. Thank you."

It wasn't just the holo; it was a kneejerk response to a word he hated. But still he felt conspicuous, all of the tumult of thoughts and feelings he'd wrestled with for years rising to the fore: Was he really offended on behalf of all the women he admired? Or was he ashamed of having _someone like him_ feminized in the eyes of the straight majority?

"Sorry, Dameron."

"Yeah, right. Forgot you don't like that."

He sliced his meat into smaller pieces, searching for a bite that he could possibly swallow.

"So what would _you_ call that guy?"

He pushed some food into his mouth so he didn't have to answer.

"How about _athletic as fuck_?"

Everyone looked up at Senior Cadet Toller. He was looking down his nose at the sophomores.

"What?" at least two of the underclassmen answered.

"Like to see you pukes try it. Like to see how long you last."

"I wouldn't _last_ ," Parron sputtered, "cause I wouldn't even be there."

"Just saying. I've seen you in the gym." He scanned Parron with an unimpressed expression. "You couldn't handle that _now_ , let alone when you're that guy's age."

"You were watching Parron in the gym?" the two girls asked simultaneously.

"He was blocking my view of the mirror," Marlen retorted.

"Point is, why would anyone with any self-respect let someone do that to them?"

Emboldened by the older cadet, Poe finally found his voice.

"You wouldn't say that about boxers. Or duelists. Or, gravball players."

"Gravball. Thank you." Marlen nodded at Poe. "Baas, you're the biggest gravball fan around. You gonna tell me those people aren't masochists?"

Baas laughed out loud. "You got a point there," he conceded, although without apparent enlightenment. "Shit, any of you guys see the quarterfinals last weekend? You see Glovern get _murdered_ at the six?" 

And just like that, they were off.

 

Poe sat tense, trying to remember to eat, listening to the gleeful recounting of injuries on the field, waiting to see if the new topic would stick or if they would return to the holo. When they moved on to staff-fighting injuries, he relaxed a little and snuck a look at his unexpected ally.

He caught him doing the same, glancing at Poe, and when their eyes met a sly little smile curled across half of Marlen's mouth - the half away from Poe's classmates. Poe grinned back and looked back down at his tray. He felt his eyelids flutter as he did, and _oh shit_ he had not intended to flirt with the older mostly-straight very hot future admiral, but it wasn't the first time his eyelashes had seemed to invoke a sentience of their own.

 

Something passed between Marlen and his buddies that Poe did not look up to see, and then they were talking about an AI project, and agreeing to meet later to work on it, and then they left. He was trying to think of something to say to the handsome older cadet when Hanna nudged him violently in the arm.

"Amirite, Dameron?"

He didn't know; he hadn't heard a word they'd said for the last couple minutes, but knowing them he could guess it was some innuendo about staff-fighting technique.

"Sure," he shrugged, with a very, very small smile. After that it was sheer annoyance more than anything that gave him the courage to speak to Cadet Toller.

"So, uh, how's AI? I'm taking One next semester."

"It's alright. Not much time to get too deep into it. I think they just want us not to be completely ignorant when we have to work with them."

Poe frowned. "So it's a user class? You do any programming?"

"Oh, it's all programming. But, user feedback is, you know," he waved his fork around.

"Of course."

"They're letting you take it this early?"

"Yeah, I tested out of a bunch of sims, so I've got room. And I'm hoping to mostly fly starfighters, so AI seems more relevant than a bunch of other systems stuff. I figure if I start now, I can maybe do an independent project senior year."

"Well, all those other systems are gonna be AI someday, too, so. We should all be doing what you're doing."

Poe shook his head. "I'm just doing it because I can. I had a leg up with the actual _flying_ part of this thing, which is what most of us here are here to learn."

 

People were starting to clear out, and both cadets were distracted for a moment by nodding and greeting friends as they passed. Poe took his last bites and realized Marlen had been done. His heart skipped a little, realizing that the guy had waited, had hung out to talk with him. He pushed back in his seat, and asked, "Can I take your tray?" expecting the guy to do what anyone else would do, say _nah, I'm done too_ , and stand up and walk him to the bus cart.

But Marlen looked at him with a hint of the little secret smile that had passed between them, before he pressed his lips tight together and paused, looking from side to side.

"You may," he said, very quietly. There was something rewarding in his voice, something that reached in and tugged at his guts.

No, not his guts.

 _Lower_.

 

Poe had to school his eyebrows back into place before he could respond. When he did, all he could do was swallow and look warily at the other cadet.

Marlen was the picture of sincerity, head bowed a little, looking up at Poe with wide eyes, everything on his face saying _this isn't a joke, and it's not at your expense._

Poe nodded slowly, trying to convey _okay, I'll trust you this once, but if I'm wrong I won't trust you again_.

He gathered their things, his mouth too dry to speak even if he had the words. He turned to Marlen and - he meant just to nod goodbye, but his knees bent themselves in a little curtsy, a brief gesture of obedience. He didn't even know if it was sarcastic or sincere. He strode away without meeting Marlen's eyes again, hoping to make it to the bus cart and out the door before the tickle on his cheeks blossomed into a raging blush.

...

 

He took a very brisk walk, walking off his nerves and trying to figure out what had just happened. What he wanted to believe was that the flirtation had been mutual, and that Marlen had just been clarifying his role in whatever might come of that flirtation.

But it was entirely possible that that little stunt had been a calculated act of rudeness, intended to put him off, to let him know that just because Marlen was into the same stuff didn't mean he was into _him_.

...

 

He couldn't concentrate on his homework, just flopped onto his bunk and read a trashy novel. Lights out couldn't come soon enough.

Just a few hours ago he wouldn't have bet on the upperclassman even knowing his name, and now he couldn't stop thinking about him. Like, he'd thought _of_ him before, casually, little images of him drilling or working out, alongside dozens of other images of dozens of other cadets while he jerked off. But he wouldn't have thought about him as an actual prospect. And he still shouldn't. If it were money he were betting, and not his feelings, he would definitely lay his chips on the notion that Cadet Toller had blown him off.

Still, he was going to indulge himself at least once before he had to deal with whatever awkwardness awaited. Not that he would masturbate with his roommate there, even sleeping. He wasn't an animal.

 

He pulled his pillow over his face and tucked his arms behind his back. He thought about the holo that had started the conversation; he thought about re-creating it with Marlen. Imagined himself bound and contorted and barely able to move, struggling to follow instructions.

He struggled for real, to keep his breath even, to keep his hips still, to keep from whimpering out loud. Finally he moved one of his arms and squeezed his balls, and then he went off-script, working that into the fantasy, imagining Marlen punishing him for his weakness, calling him names, and he let the hot, thick tide of desire wash over him.

 

The sensation of falling; once, twice he jerked awake. He told his limbs _hush, be good._

 

 _He was at a funeral, a military funeral. He recognized some of the faces around him, but they were so old._ _Someone put a coat over a veteran's lap; it caught on one of the tubes that bristled out of her. Careful, admonished several hoarse voices at once, and the coat was fixed._

_Was he cold? He looked down at his body, shriveled in its liftchair. His dress uniform hung limp and open, heavy panels of medals contorting its folds._

_I made it._

_Meaning, I survived. Simultaneously meaning, he'd made it here, to this half-awake dream space._

_The chair was parked on checkered tiles, and there were birds in the tiles, sparrows chasing carrion birds. The birds didn't know they were in the tiles; they thought they were flying free in the wide pink sky of home._

_He was with them in the sky, their acrobatic fight swooping around him. His grandfather had told him once what a stinking mess the world would be without carrion birds, and he was grateful to them and their under-appreciated work. But still it was gratifying to see the little birds chasing bigger ones off._

_They chased everything bigger, because of the hawks, because the hawks ate their eggs. He could see it, a sparrow's egg in a hawk's bill, white shell against pink tongue, just like Marlen's white underwear against his own pink tongue, rolled up and stuffed in his mouth while he writhed under him in a cheap room off-campus, bent and bound, wide and helpless._

 

He came to in sweat-damp sheets. He nudged the pillow off his face and stretched his aching arm. He turned over on his side, wondering, as always, whether his roommate knew. He hadn't moved a muscle, but he was sure anyone awake could smell the sweat and hormones steaming out from under his blankets, sure his body heat alone had warmed the room a couple of degrees.

 

* * *

 

He didn't have to wait long. He usually sat alone for breakfast, because he was Not A Morning Person. Not that he wasn't pleasant company - in fact, the things that came out of his groggy mouth were pretty entertaining. But he preferred it, and everyone who knew him knew it.

He had just picked up his empty mug for the third time when a tall, solid body slid in next to him, pressing their knees together. He took the empty mug and wrapped Poe's hand around a hot, fresh one.

 _Thank you_ is what one would normally say. Something about thoughtfulness. But at least one part of Poe's brain had its shit together. He was really very sleepy, and he hadn't spoken a word to anyone yet today, so it wasn't much of a performance to murmur a rough, sleepy, "Mornin,'" sounding for all the world like he was greeting someone he'd just woken up next to. And Marlen didn't miss it. He let out a pleased little hum and asked Poe if he'd slept well. He had.

Poe took a long sip of the hot caf and set the mug down. "Thanks," he said, tapping on the rim of the mug. "I needed that."

"You look like you need it," Marlen said quietly.

Well.

It wasn't like he hid it, exactly.

It just didn't come up, much.

Until it had.

"That obvious, huh?"

"No," the other cadet said gently. "Not to everyone. Only to someone who knows what they're looking for."

That was still a little terrifying. Poe took a deep breath, and couldn't hide the way it stuttered.

"You know what I mean, _cadet_?" Marlen's voice was very quiet, flat and terse, and there it was again, reaching into him.

Poe swallowed and whispered, "Yes, sir." He squeezed his hands tight around the mug to keep them from shaking. He watched white steam rise from the hot brown liquid, heard the older boy's breath as short and sharp as his own. He scratched Poe's knee in a reassuring gesture; Poe relaxed into it. It was only for a couple of discreet seconds, and then he pulled his hand away. The mess hall around them snapped back into focus. Poe blinked and cleared his throat.

"Um, thanks again. For the refill."

"Don't thank me," Marlen answered in a louder, jovial voice that faltered only slightly. "The caf here is terrible!"

"The worst!" Poe agreed.

"You know where they make good caf? Beeva's, in the old quarter. Ever been there?"

Poe had, and he was rather surprised that Marlen had. It wasn't exactly a clean-cut kind of place.

"Yeah, great place. Love their caf."

"Wanna go this weekend?"

Poe nodded, eyelashes doing their thing. "I'd like that. We should go early, before all the private booths fill up."

"I'll pick you up."

Poe raised an eyebrow.

"I've got a duallie."

_Of course you do._

Of course he did.

 

* * *

 


End file.
